


First Yuletide In Erebor

by moosefrog



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: M/M, tolkiensecretsanta2017
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-23
Updated: 2017-12-23
Packaged: 2019-02-19 02:29:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13114068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moosefrog/pseuds/moosefrog
Summary: Love is a battlefield! Bilbo and Thorin clash over cultural differences regarding their respective winter holidays! Can they reconcile their differences? Maybe! I mean, it's no fight over the Arkenstone and they got past THAT little hiccough just fine! There are cookies!





	First Yuletide In Erebor

**Author's Note:**

  * For [iam93percentstardust](https://archiveofourown.org/users/iam93percentstardust/gifts).



> Written for [iam93percentstardust](http://iam93percentstardust.tumblr.com/)! I hope you have a great holiday! :D
> 
> Thank you to [Gloomier](http://archiveofourown.org/users/gloomier) for the beta!

“On the first day of Yuletide my true love gave to me, a bloody big row,” Bilbo grumbled under his breath. It wasn’t actually Yuletide yet but Bilbo had big plans for it and had been excited to share those plans with his new husband. His new husband who was clearly opposed to any sort of fun and merriment. Why had he ever said, ‘yes’ to marrying the big brute?

He stalked past horrified looking dwarves. Alright, so he and Thorin had gotten _a bit_ loud with the arguing, but did it deserve this many looks of horror? It was just Thorin! Thorin got shouty about a good many things but didn’t really mean to scare people. Soon, Bilbo realized he had no idea where he was going, but such was the force of his anger that he just kept right on going! If he wound up blundering into the deepest hole in Erebor and was lost forever well, that’d show Thorin! That’d show him… something! Something, indeed!

Bilbo was aware he wasn’t thinking rationally, but it felt so good to be irrational at the moment that he didn’t care.

He stomped out of the royal wing and as he did so the two guards on duty watched him warily. One began to move as if he was going to intercept Bilbo, and the other shook his head and drew a finger across his neck in ominous warning.

They waited for the irate hobbit to stomp out of sight before they played rocks and hammers to see who would take a message to the spymaster’s people, so they’d know to keep an eye on the royal consort. The loser shuffled off looking depressed.

 

===

 

“He wants a giant tree dragged into the mountain!” Thorin shouted. "Then he wants candles and decorations for it! Tell me that is not an elf tradition? We are dwarves and this is a dwarf kingdom! It is also our first _proper_ Yuleblot since we reclaimed the mountain! I will not have even a whiff of elf in these halls during a dwarfish holiday!”

“I can’t say that I have ever heard of elves cutting down trees for decoration,” Balin said, using his most calming and rational tone of voice. It was a tactic that rarely worked when Thorin was worked up. “They normally prefer their trees to be alive.” He sighed because Thorin really wasn’t going to be reasonable, was he? Still, it was worth a try, for Bilbo’s sake. “Be kind, Thorin. It may not be a dwarvish tradition but it is a hobbitish one and it appears to be very important to Bilbo.”

“Well, he has to get used to the fact that he lives in a dwarf mountain now, and he is married to a dwarf,” Thorin said.

Balin could feel a headache coming on. “You’ve only been married a couple of months Thorin, you’re supposed to still be accommodating to each other."

"My people expect a dwarven Yuleblot! I must follow the traditions of our people if I am to maintain my authority.”

"I think you overestimate how important tradition is to our people now that we have been out and living in the world. We have learned many new ways and now would be an ideal time to allow for establishing new traditions!”

“I will not have my crown undermined by the presence of some… burning elven tree, Balin.“

“If tradition was that important to you,” Balin shot back, “then you would not have married a hobbit.”

Thorin looked taken aback by that but quickly recovered and slammed his hands down on his desk. “I had thought my hobbit understood that marrying a dwarf king means he is an honorary dwarf, and that means dwarf traditions!”

“The council is still trying to decide just how much of a dwarf your 'honorary dwarf' hobbit really is. He has still not been approved to learn our language or to engage in our most secret ceremonies. Is it any wonder he is looking for a bit of hobbit comfort when he doesn’t truly feel that a place has been made for him here?” Balin said. He felt for Bilbo. Everyone else seemed to fit right into the rhythm of the mountain but after the wedding was over, Bilbo hadn’t really found his place. It wasn’t as if he could get on with the _traditional_ consort activity of bearing heirs. “I feel this is just his way of trying to squeeze a bit of who he is into the holiday, Thorin. He must be terribly homesick and looking for something familiar… you do remember what that was like, don’t you?”

“Why did I ever authorize the resurrection of the council,” Thorin grumbled. “They are boulders in the river of progress!”

Balin wasn’t surprised Thorin completely side-stepped having to say anything about homesickness. He was a proud, stubborn dwarf and it would take hours of mulling over Balin’s words before he’d consider conceding the point.

“Because having a council is _traditional,_ and you seem keen on _tradition.”_ Balin said pointedly. ”Although, you now sound like you don’t like tradition when it doesn’t suit you.” He probably shouldn’t have sounded so smug, but it was one of his pleasures in life to point out when Thorin was being hypocritical.

The glare Thorin gave him was truly spectacular. Stepping into the role of King Under the Mountain had really given Thorin the opportunity to grow as an intimidating figure. If Balin hadn’t known Thorin so well, he might have even changed the subject rather than risk his wrath.

“You make it sound like I am indecisive,” Thorin groused.

“So, you concede that you would like the council to side-step tradition to allow Bilbo to be considered a dwarf? Then why not also allow that the introduction of one or two hobbit traditions for their Yuletide, which I understand would only take place at the end of our Yuleblot, would also not dilute our culture?” Balin said. He knew his logic was sound, and eventually Thorin would come to see that. “And if it is your authority you are so concerned about you, you would not have married Bilbo in the first place! You did marry Bilbo, despite reading your Spymaster’s reports on the unease your people felt about your union.”

“They are fools,” Thorin growled. “Bilbo has proven himself and was key in reclaiming our mountain! He has earned his place by my side!”

“Aye, you and I know that. Our Company knows that. Even King Bard and Thranduil know this to be true. But to those dwarves who have returned from exile? He is just a strange type of Man who has captured your heart. Most have never even heard of hobbits!”

Before the wedding the mountain was rife with rumours and hostility from factions both for and against the union. After the wedding, there was a begrudging acceptance that Bilbo wasn’t going anywhere.

Bilbo had rallied magnificently, claiming he was used to being the subject of scorn, and had helped plan a legendary royal wedding that would be talked about for ages to come! How he had managed to negotiate yards of silk dyed Durin blue from Mirkwood was a mystery Balin had yet to solve.

But there was a difference between being tolerated and being _accepted._

“Bilbo's tree is to honour the Green Goddess. What if we upset Mahal by showing her respect?” Thorin argued.

That made no sense whatsoever considering the Green Lady was Mahal’s _wife—_ a fact that Thorin should _know._ His arguments were getting weaker and more ridiculous as their discussion went on.

“I think you should be more concerned whether your consort will allow you back into your rooms or not,” Balin said with a smile. “Leave the debates about Mahal to the elders.”

At that moment there was a discreet knocking at the door.

“Enter,” Thor commanded.

Nori stuck his head in the door and made a face at Thorin. “Are you and Bilbo fighting again?" he asked. “I’ve been told he’s left the royal suites in a temper.”

 _‘You know what happened last time he stormed off’_ was left unsaid, but they all thought it.

Thorin groaned and dropped heavily into his chair, sending it skidding backwards an inch. “Please tell me someone is following him.”

Nori looked affronted. "What do you take me for? He has been followed since he left your office over an hour ago.”

"Good. I would like to see him this afternoon. Get one of the guards to escort him to my office after lunch. Perhaps he’ll be in a better temper after he's eaten."

Balin covered his face with his hands. Mahal, help their marriage.

 

====

 

Bilbo had no idea where he was. He knew he wasn’t in the deepest parts of Erebor because the walls were finished, carved smooth in a way he now associated with the more civilized parts of the mountain. The last time he’d blindly charged off in a huff he’d ended up in the mines and the walls there were all rough and uneven; so he wasn’t in the mines. The corridor he was in was sparsely lit—long, dark shadows separated each lit sconce from the next—and very eerie. It also didn’t appear to be a section reserved for personal quarters, and neither did it see much traffic—the thick layer of dust covering the stone floors made that apparent.. Though, it did look like someone had walked through here recently on account of the dust having been scuffed off the flagstones down the middle of the corridor. If people were living in this hall Bilbo was certain they would’ve swept up.

As Bilbo hit one of the darkened sections of the hall, he noticed a source of light coming from behind a door, left ajar, a few yards ahead of him.

Bilbo knew he was not the most liked person in Erebor at the moment; in fact certain factions reminded him of that on a regular basis. It made him wary when approaching dwarves he did not personally know, and he tended to stay within the royal suites. Both Nori and Dwalin had impressed upon him the importance of being on his guard and were happiest when he didn’t stray. There were those who would stoop to using Bilbo as a means to bend Thorin to their will.

And here he had thought that politics in the Shire had been complicated and ruthless. Trust dwarves to make their politics even more complicated and ruthless!

Bilbo considered his options: go back the way he came, through a dark hallway in a section of the mountain he did not know and would encounter noone, or continue forward and towards the light, risking that whomever was behind the door could be either friend or foe.

His stomach rumbled reminding him that he had walked out of the royal suites without taking second breakfast. It had to be past elevensies and close to lunch now. That made up his mind for him. It would be quicker to find his way back if he could ask someone what way to take. And if the dwarf within _was_ an enemy, well, Bilbo patted his pocket which contained his ring, he had a way to disappear into the darkness.

 

====

 

Lunch was a hearty, spiced soup made from root vegetables and dried beans served with slabs of bread smeared with soft, creamy goat cheese. Those with permission to be in the royal suites had the option to dine in the royal communal dining hall, and many took advantage of it. The royal cook, after all, was the hero Bombur and he was widely regarded as one of the finest cooks in Erebor.

It was also an ideal time to bend the ear of the king, if you were lucky enough to take a meal when his majesty could be pried from his office or the endless meetings he attended. While his majesty was often absent, his consort was often not. Bilbo could be counted upon to be in the dining hall at mealtime.

Which was why there were many concerned faces when people began to realize Bilbo was not there. Fíli sat down next to his brother and nudged him with an elbow. “Hey, where’s Bilbo?”

Kíli hunched his shoulders and looked from side to side before he said quietly, “He and irak’adad had a fight. You missed it.”

“Noooooo,” Fíli whined back, also trying to be quiet. “The last time that happened Bilbo got stuck in a mineshaft!”

“I know!”

“Do you know what they’re fighting about?”

“I think Bilbo wants a pet tree.”

“A pet… _tree?”_ Fíli looked as confused as he sounded. “That sounds harmless enough, why is irak’adad against it?”

“He thinks having a pet tree is an elf thing!”

“Well, it does sound like something an elf would do.”

“You take that back!” Kíli sounded shocked. “If Bilbo wants it then it’s a hobbit thing, not an elf thing!”

Fíli shushed his brother, who was getting loud, and pulled him close by his collar to whisper, “We can’t get in the middle of this. It’s their fight. But… _we_ can start asking amad for a pet tree. If she says yes, then irak’adad has to say yes to Bilbo, right?”

“Fee, you’re a genius!”

“I’m only a genius if it works.”

“It’s going to work,” Kíli insisted. “Hurry up and eat so we can find amad!”

 

====

 

“Oh!” Bilbo gasped. “This is a library!” He had crept up to the doors and his nose wiggled at the familiar smells of old parchment and glue. Well, nothing bad ever happened in a library, right? “Hello? Is anybody here?”

It was a silly question to ask. There were mining lamps—which were carefully constructed to contain flames without a risk of exposure to gasses or, in this case, fragile old books and scrolls—on and around a large table where it looked like someone had been trying to organize a collection of scrolls. There was clearly someone here.

As he crept deeper into the room he could see another light moving between the empty spaces of the shelves, getting closer. Bilbo slipped his hand into his pocket just in case. “Hello? I don’t mean to intrude! I seem to have lost my way!”

The light paused then sped up and a startled squeak announced a familiar face. Bilbo broke into a relieved smile at the sight of the Company’s scribe. “Am I ever happy to see you, Ori!”

“Bilbo!” Ori’s arms were full of scrolls and he had enough presence of mind to walk them over to the table to deposit them, instead of letting them drop to the floor. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here! You’d said you were lost?”

“I’m afraid so,” Bilbo said with a rueful smile. He slipped his hand out of his pocket and let it hang by his side. “I really wasn’t paying much attention to where I was headed.”

“Oh,” Ori’s face fell and he looked worried. “Were you and Thorin…?”

“Ah. Yes, well, I’m afraid so,” Bilbo confirmed the unspoken question. It seemed dwarves were more used to a consort who didn’t row with their husband and king. Tough nuts to them! Bilbo had no intention of being anyone other than who he was, and Thorin, despite their differences, agreed. “He’s dead set against my having a Yuletide tree.”

Ori looked thoughtful for a moment. “I’ve read about that before somewhere. Isn’t the tree used to make a log the next year, and is burned to bring good luck to the home?”

“Very close to how we do it in the Shire!” Bilbo grinned. Trust Ori to have heard of the tradition. He was a wellspring of knowledge! “Technically, I should have the remains of last year’s yule log to light this year’s but, well, due to adventuring I didn’t have a log for last year. I was hoping to start over again by using this year’s tree to make a log, and maybe have Thorin decide on the best way to light it. Using a traditional dwarven means.”

“And the tree is decorated with candles and nuts? Er, or something like that?” Ori smiled shyly. ”I admit, I’d always wondered about that bit. Candles in a tree sounds like you’re asking for a fire. Nuts sound right, however.”

“It really depends on whose tree we’re talking about,” Bilbo said. “We get pretty competitive with our trees and when you go around visiting you would compare the trees you saw against yours at home.” He looked wistful. “I had a lovely collection of little tin and crystal ornaments that would sparkle in the candlelight. They cost my father a small fortune, but they were worth it!” His wistful look turned smug. _“Our_ tree was always an object of envy.”

“And then, when my parents passed on, I stopped putting up a tree for Yuletide.” He sighed and cleared off a stool so he could sit down. “It just didn't seem worth the effort when it was only for me, you know? I’d rather hoped… it’s just that, well,” he shrugged helplessly, “Now that I have a family again, I thought it would be nice to have a tree.”

Bilbo sighed again. “I hadn’t realized it was an unreasonable request to make of Thorin.”

There was a sniffle then a loud _blat_ as Ori blew his nose. His eyes were watery with tears and he came over to squeeze Bilbo’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, Bilbo. I don’t mean to snuffle like this but that was just… it was just so sad. There isn’t a dwarf in Erebor who hasn’t lost family in the past hundred years. Maybe we could… maybe we could ask Thorin for a yule tree for all of us?”

Bilbo’s eyes widened as he thought it over. “A really big tree! With a candle or an ornament for every person we want to remember! I don’t see why we couldn’t? It would be a nice way to honor those we love at a time of year when we’re supposed to think about love and family.”

“Oh Bilbo,” Ori had to wipe at his nose again. “That’s such a beautiful idea! I could make a nice crochet doily for my amad to hang on the tree!”

“Hmm,” Bilbo rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Maybe I didn’t present the idea the right way to Thorin this morning. Neither of us are ‘morning people’ and I’d only had my first breakfast.” And they’d both been tired from a long… er… night with little actual sleep.

“I’m going to find Thorin and try again. Er, that is… if you wouldn’t mind helping me find the royal suites again? I really am quite lost.”

 

====

 

“You want, _what?”_ Dís stopped mid-swing of her smith hammer and looked over her shoulder at her boys. They weren’t the best behaved boys but they were good boys. And they certainly always knew how to make her life interesting.

“A pet tree!” Kíli beamed using the smile that he reserved for extra special requests.

“A _pet_ … tree?” The metal she’d been shaping went back into the coals to warm up again. “Are you going to teach it tricks?”

“Uh… well, sure! It can, uhhhh… hold my… socks for me?”

“Oh Kíli, won’t your floor get jealous?”

“Amaaaaaad,” Kíli whined sheepishly. He did like to use his floor to ‘organize’ his clothes. At least, that’s what he called it. _Organized._

“You know, there isn’t much sunlight in the mountain,” Dís pointed out. “And there isn’t any rain. Your pet tree won’t thrive.”

“I’ll put it close to a window! And and bring fresh water for it every day!”

Dís pulled her heated metal out of the coals and placed it back on her anvil. “You are my odd little pebble, Kíli. If you really want a _pet_ … tree… then I do not see why you cannot have one.”

Kíli breathed a huge sigh of relief and Dís looked at him sharply. “Did your uncle already forbid it?”

“N-no, amad! I haven’t even asked him if I could have one!” Which was completely true! Kíli looked like he was thinking as fast as he could. “I mean, why would I bother uncle about a silly pet tree?”

“Mm.” Dís  stared hard at her youngest son. She knew there was something going on, but she couldn’t see how his silly idea could be a problem. Well, if he got in trouble over it with Thorin she’d find out soon enough. “Try not to upset your uncle, Kee. Now shoo, amad is forging and her metal’s getting cold.”

 

====

 

“What. Is. This?” Thorin did not sound happy. There was a large pot on the floor of his favourite sitting room filled with dirt with a dwarf-sized pine tree stuck in it.

“It’s my pet!” Kíli said brightly. “I’m going to call him Frosti!”

“Is this because of your _elf_ … friend?”

“No! I just thought it’d be fun.”

Thorin’s eyes narrowed. “Have you been talking to Bilbo?”

“No? We haven’t seen him all day, irak’adad,” Fíli answered. “We had sparring practice this morning. Why? Does Bilbo want a pet tree, too?”

“We could put our pet trees together so they can keep each other company!” Kíli declared.

Thorin glared at the tree. The tree ignored him. His nephews did their best to look both adorable and innocent. _Too_ innocent. _“That,”_ he pointed at the tree. “Does not leave this room until I get to the bottom of this.”

“The bottom of what?” Bilbo asked from the doorway. He popped a cookie in his mouth; they were small, sweet, and full of cinnamon. They also happened to be Thorin’s favourite, and Bilbo had a plate with half a dozen more piled onto it. “Hello everyone. There’s more cookies in the kitchen if anyone wants some.”

Fíli looked at Kíli, who immediately scrambled to his feet, and the two of them pushed past Bilbo at the door with hurried thanks and an earnestly whispered, “Protect my pet tree!” from Kíli, which left Bilbo confused.

“Did Kíli just say he had a _pet tree_? Where does that boy get these ideas from?”

Thorin looked at Bilbo sharply. “So it wasn’t your idea? I had thought after this morning...”

“Goodness, no! What a strange idea, a _pet tree_. You couldn’t even teach it to do tricks.” He selected another cookie from his plate. “I really don’t see the point of it.” He offered the cookie to Thorin who regarded it for a long moment before he stepped forward to take the proffered peace offering.

“I think he got the idea from that…. _elf_ he insists he’s in love with.”

“Oh do lay off him, Thorin. He cannot help who he fell in love with anymore than we can.”

Instead of blurting out the first words that came to mind, Thorin stuffed his cookie in his mouth. Then he took Bilbo’s free hand and led him to their favourite spot to sit by the fireplace. When they were settled he took another cookie off of Bilbo’s plate and it was a testament to their love that Bilbo let him.

“You’re being awfully quiet, Thorin.”

“Mm-mmhmm,” Thorin mumbled with a mouthful of cookie.

“Hmpf. Now I can’t tell if you’re making fun of me or not,” Bilbo grumped. “Look, I may not have been the most… _diplomatic_ person this morning. About my idea for a Yuletide tree.”

Thorin swallowed his cookie, took the plate from Bilbo and set it on the floor, then took Bilbo’s hands in his own. “Âzyungel, it was I who was not very… diplomatic. Or understanding. I had not realized… I hadn’t considered… are you homesick? I had thought you were content here in Erebor!”

“I am! Content… but, I also miss some things. And it isn't like I’m a dwarf, Thorin. I don’t know what Yuleblot is like, and I do look forward to sharing it with you, but there are certain… ceremonies I won’t be permitted to attend this year. Not unless the council makes a decision quickly about my status as a dwarf.” Bilbo frowned, “Which I don’t think they’re inclined to do. Er, quickly, that is.”

“We’ll convince them, Bilbo. I want you to be able to share every aspect of my life. And… I want to share every aspect of yours. Even… weird decorated indoor trees. Which will undoubtedly spark a civil war in the mountain and I will be deposed as king.”

“Pfft. Well, if you get deposed you’ll just have to travel back to the Shire with me and live out your days as my live-in blacksmith.”

“Ah, well, we would probably be dead. Civil wars rarely have happy endings.”

“Thorin,” Bilbo’s voice was flat. “Have I ever said you have a flair for storytelling?”

Thorin grinned and kissed Bilbo’s cheek. “You know, I don’t think you ever have.” He made an unhappy noise and stroked his beard. “So, tell me more about this weird tree thing you hobbits do.”

“Well, first of all, stop calling it ‘weird’. The thing you dwarves do with your toilets is ‘weird’.”

“It’s hygienic!”

“My point has been made,” Bilbo said primly. “I was speaking to Ori about the Yuletide tree, and he had an excellent suggestion for how we could make it more palatable to dwarves. He suggested that we get a very large tree and anyone who wanted to hang a decoration to remember a lost loved o—erk!”

Bilbo was cut off by a tight, and engulfing, hug. “You can have your bloody tree,” his voice was muffled by the way he had his face buried in Bilbo’s hair. “If it is important to you, my love, then it should be important to me.”

“Ah you big bear,” Bilbo wheezed when Thorin finally let him go. “I’ll try to remember it isn’t just the two of us, it’s us ...and all of your people.” For a dedicated bachelor it was a big adjustment. They’d been married a few months ago and it still hasn’t sunk in what he’d married into.

“And I will try to understand that you are still settling into your role as the royal consort and did not grow up learning the intricacies of royal, and dwarven, life.”

“I won’t promise not to fight with you, however!” Bilbo shook his finger at Thorin. “Somebody has to be unafraid of your temper!”

 _“My_ temper? You were giving as good as you got! Heh.” Thorin grinned at Bilbo and kissed his temple. “Never quench your fire, umzam, it is the source of your passion.”

“Pfft. You flirt. So what sort of traditions should I expect at Yuleblot? Do you… give each other… rocks?”

“Haha! No! We do exchange gifts and there is the traditional filling of the socks.”

Bilbo looked down and wiggled his bare toes. Thorin winced.

“I’m certain we can find a way to make it work, Bilbo. _Together.”_

**Author's Note:**

> Yuleblot was lifted from [this post](https://dwarrowscholar.wordpress.com/2012/04/27/the-dwarrow-calendar/) by the Dwarrow Scholar. I chose to Yuleblot instead of a Khuzdul name on purpose; as Bilbo has still not been accepted as a dwarfish enough to be taught Khuzdul, yet. (Thorin is working on it!)


End file.
